


Black Armour

by Lost_Stories



Category: Romeo & Juliet - Takarazuka Revue, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Takarazuka Revue Musicals
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Benvolio is a girl, Enemies to Friends, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Stories/pseuds/Lost_Stories
Summary: Tybalt growls from across the square, and Benvolio quickly pulls Mercutio away and tells him to find Romeo, and the others. When he is gone, she returns. To Tybalt with his angry eyes. He is alone, sitting with his head down in a corner of the square...





	1. Feint

**Author's Note:**

> An AU in which Benvolio is a girl. Based on the 2011 Takarazuka Shinjinkouen because Karyou Shizuru is both extremely kickass and very feminine and it's beautiful.

The door opens just as Benvolio finishes pulling her shirt over her head and she jumps, yanking it down quickly before realising it's only Mercutio. He wanders into the room absently, hardly even noticing her. She rolls her eyes and grumbles silently, but doesn't say anything about it. Part of her is grateful he forgets she is a girl, even if it means he walks in at the most unfortunate of times (and nearly blushes his head off if he happens to look up). She finishes dressing and looks back up just in time to see him bump against her table and fall face first onto her bed, and the expression of surprise and insult on his face is priceless.

"The table has been here longer than you have you know," she says, suppressing a snigger. 

Two eyes stare at her accusingly from under a large, collapsed mop of reddish hair, and quickly shift to a pout as he sees her laugh. Mercutio will probably never grow up, she thinks, but somehow that seems like a good thing. She pulls on her boots and shrugs on her coat, and then collects a rumpled Mercutio from her bed, where he is... well she supposes he's trying to look attractive, but it's not going very well.

As she shrugs on her jacket he hugs her, hand resting accidentally on a place perhaps it shouldn't, and she smiles. Perhaps one day he will forget completely, perhaps they all will. She hugs Mercutio back, mindful for the bruise in his side Tybalt inflicted yesterday, and pulls him outside. Time to find her disaster of a cousin.

Instead they find Tybalt, in what seems to be a terrible mood. Perhaps today isn't the day to let Mercutio taunt him. His face looks gaunt and his eyes are grim, and one grin of Mercutio’s is enough to send a flash of anger and malice across his face. As Mercutio, never one to recognise danger when he sees it, steps forward, she blocks his path and raises her chin. As leader of the Montagues, it’s her job to know which fights to pick. Locking eyes with her angry counterpart, she raises a questioning eyebrow. The wild look in his eyes calms a little, and from the small shake of his head she knows enough. Today isn't a day for fighting. Fighting today could have a deadly consequence. Mercutio scoffs behind her and curses at Tybalt, and she sees the flash of anger in his eyes as a warning. Quickly, she pulls Mercutio with her.

"Let them have the square today. We have to find Romeo."

"But Ben!" Mercutio whines "We were here first!  You can't be saying you'll let that wild cat chase us away?!"

Benvolio has to suppress an eye-roll. She loves her friend, really she does, but he just doesn't know when to quit. Tybalt growls from across the square, and she decides not to answer. Pulling Mercutio quickly away she tells him to find Romeo, and the others. When he is gone, she returns. Returns to Tybalt with his angry eyes. He is alone, sitting with his head down in a corner of the square. She approaches carefully, scuffing the floor with her feet so he hears her coming. He finally glances up when she sits next to him, and leans his shoulder again hers.

"What are you doing here, Montague dog?" He says, without malice in his voice.

She shrugs. "Same as always. Want to talk about it?"

It stays quiet for a while, and her mind wanders. In a different world, she thinks, they could have been friends, Tybalt and her. They really aren't as different as one might think. While he is wild and angry and loud, the young Prince of Cats feels the same kind of responsibility she does. They both are leaders, in their way, doing their best to keep their loved ones safe, and they are both expendable, to the adults. Cousins to the children that matter. Buffers, to fight a fight that was never theirs. She doesn't hate Tybalt; she just knows she has to fight him. She thinks he doesn't hate her either. At least, not in moments like these, when it’s just the two of them, and one of them needs support.  She knows, as does Tybalt, that if he fights in a mood like this, someone might die. She's learned to recognise that look in his eyes, learned how to make sure nothing happens. And he has learned to let her see it, and let her stop any conflict before it begins. His head lands on her shoulder, and she feels him... shake, slightly. She wants to ask again what's wrong, but knows better. After what seems an eternity, he starts speaking in a low, almost monotone voice. Distant from the words he's saying. 

"He got mad at Juliet." He says, "Tried to hit her, so I punched him. They locked me up. And then he let _her_ inside. She... she tried..." his voice trails off.

Benvolio doesn't have to ask who 'she' is, or what she tried. She's heard this story before, and to be honest she would love a good shot to punch his aunt. Carefully, she lays her hand open between them, and after a moment he takes it, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you." He whispers, an emotion in his voice she is not sure how to name.

It stays quiet again for a while. How any family can do this to their children she will never understand. She's never met Juliet, but she knows the girl is lucky to have a cousin like Tybalt. She hopes she knows it.

"Sometimes," he says, "sometimes I wish we were Montagues."

Stunned, she sits there. That admission must have cost him a lot. She knows he loves his friends, his clan... that they could make him say something so unthinkable... she wants to say a thousand things, offer him advice, apologies, anything. Instead, she just sits there, and squeezes his hand. To herself, she thinks, 'me too'.

Time passes, and they sit there, quiet. A moment's respite. She knows tomorrow they will fight again, and he won't hold back, but for today, for just this moment, she can be his friend.

And then, he gets up. His warmth disappears from her side and he gruffly offers her a hand. She takes it, and as their eyes meet, hands still clasped together, he says "tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you, Montague."

Laughing, she nods, and though his face remains grim there is a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before.

As she runs off to find her boisterous friends, he yells after her: "And stay out!"

She laughs again. Same old Tybalt.


	2. Remise

Lying in her bed that night, Romeo curled close around her, she lets her mind wander to the first time she and Tybalt actually met. She had been twelve at the time, barely more than a child. She had only _just_ started to realise that she and Romeo were even any different, that boys and girls were not the same. With no parents looking after her, she supposed that part of her education had been mostly forgotten, until her eleventh birthday, when her aunt suddenly realised that her nieces conduct was actually quite inappropriate and took her to a dress maker. She remembers vaguely disliking the uncomfortable things, but she wore them nonetheless. At that age especially, all Benvolio had wanted was a proper family, that loved her.

The memory of her parents, Lady Montagues' younger brother and his wife, is dim. Sometimes, she thinks she remembers warm arms holding her, chasing a nightmare away. But that was eons ago. If anyone chases nightmares away these days, it’s her. Since about the age of five, Romeo has been sneaking into her room at night and hogging all the blankets. He still does, sometimes, and she can never really bring herself to turn him away. Although he is taller than her these days, towering over her easily, his smile has never changed, and neither has his behaviour. The only change is that his hugs are now almost crushing, if he doesn’t pay attention. She doesn’t think he will ever lose that energy of a young puppy, looking for love and happiness. It’s refreshing, his wide-eyed innocence and hope for the future, and she hopes the world doesnn’t take that away from him. He is a beacon of hope all by himself, his bright smile never failing to light up her day.  And with his head snuggled close under her chin as he hugs her close, she still sleeps best of all. He might be here because he needs comfort, but in her own way she does too. She is loath to admit it, but she dreads the day he finds himself a girl, and she will no longer be the most important person in his life. No longer the person he turns to when he needs to be told it’ll be okay, that he is right just the way he is, gangly, clumsy long limbs and all.

Her mind wanders back from Romeo to Tybalt, and how different yet the same they really are. They are both good people, in her book. She knows Tybalt doesn’t agree with that assessment, but he is wrong, plain and simple.

The memory of their first meeting is dim, at this point, but the one thing that’s clear is Tybalt, barely older than she was, stepping between her and the much older Capulet boys who had cornered her and were trying to get her out of her dress. She remembers his angry, indignant voice telling them to _fuck off_. Vaguely, she recalls his hands balling into fists and trembling, as seen from an odd angle as she lay rumpled on the ground. After, when he had chased them off, he had knelt down beside her and awkwardly laid his jacket around her shoulders. He had mumbled something about how if people touched his cousin like that he’d kill them, and she’d simply leaned on his helping hand, too dazed from being thrown against the wall to really think. His brown eyes had been filled with helpless fury and concern, and he had helped her stand before essentially bringing her all the way home, even walking into Montague territory until he was sure she would be alright.

She’d gone back to wearing boys’ clothes after that day, not really caring what her aunt said about it. She had taken the red jacket he’d hung around her shoulders and dyed it black, before donning it next time she went out in town alone. It felt almost like a piece of armour, the strong leather keeping her safe.  The look of recognition in his eyes next Sunday in church had been borderline hilarious, and she hadn’t been able to resist smiling at him. All she had gotten in return was a confused frown, but when she had grown out of the jacket a few years later, an almost identical one had been waiting for her on the foot of her bed shortly after she stopped wearing it. It wasn’t as uniformly black as the previous one had been, but then she supposed Tybalt wouldn’t have much experience dyeing clothes. She appreciated it nonetheless. Over time, the boy’s clothes had started feeling less like armour and more like what she was _meant_ to wear, and now she honestly can’t imagine ever putting on a dress again.

She glances at her clothes, her newest black jacket hanging over the chair in the corner of the room, and fondly remembers finding it, packaged neatly, just outside her window the day after her last birthday. This one is different than the others – a little longer, more mature, and she doesn’t think this is one of his own old ones. He must have had this one made, somehow.

They have never talked about any of this, really, and she doesn’t think they ever will. They don’t really need to. They both remember, and they are there when the other person needs it most. Enemies or not, there is an understanding between them she shares with no-one else. They know some of each other’s darkest, deepest truths, and when they end up at one another’s knifepoint it is with the knowledge that even though they might fight, it isn’t from a place of malice, but a place of duty. She would die before she let Romeo or Mercutio get hurt, and she knows he would do the same for any of his family. That is the truth between them. If one of them eventually has to die at the hands of the other, she hopes it’s her. Whomever it is, she supposes that that person at least won’t have to feel the hurt of the aftermath, whatever that counts for. Perhaps she is a coward for hoping she’ll be the first one to go, but the thought of being the one left behind is the stuff of her darkest nightmares.

Romeo shifts besides her, snuggling a little closer, and she is pulled from her dark thoughts by the soft helpless mumble of her name falling from his lips. Gently, she strokes his hair and pulls the blanket a little higher up around them. As always, Romeo is reminding her not to see the world quite so grimly. Closing her eyes, she smiles softly. Tomorrow might bring more dark thoughts, but today she averted a disaster and she got to talk to her best not-friend. Not an altogether bad score, if she did say so herself.


	3. Parry

She is just about to throw a punch when Romeos voice breaks through the fog and she stills, looking around them. There is fighting everywhere, and catching Romeo's eye she sees the helpless desperation and fear, as he pleads for her help to make it stop. She turns, sees one of her friends trip and fall and barely avoid a knife, watches a young Capulet boy with a split lip scramble away... chaos. There is chaos everywhere. And it is deadly. Time seems to slow as she watches Mercutio recklessly run up to Tybalt, sees the unbridled rage in his eyes. It's too late to stop it now... but if she can only get Tybalt's attention, maybe she can channel his anger elsewhere.

Why? Why did her stupid, lovely, idiotic sweetheart of a cousin have to fall for _Juliette_ , of all people. Why couldn't he have picked a nice Montague girl to fall for...

She grabs Romeo by the arm and holds his gaze for the moment. It is the first time she has really looked at him since they got into that fight over Juliette, the first time they've spoken. He hasn't been staying with her at night and he has avoided her, dropping his gaze when she looks at him. Their eyes meet, and she sees the understanding there - the realisation that this is what she feared could happen. He clasps her hand on his arm and nods, eyes fearful but determined. She nods and then let's go, runs to two fighting children and pulls them away from one another. Behind her, she can hear Romeo do the same. Perhaps, perhaps they can still fix this...

As she runs between the fighting children, trying to pull them apart, a bright light blinds her. She turns, and stumbles back, the sun reflecting angrily off Mercutio’s blade. With a gasp, she runs forward, stepping between him and Tybalt. Dimly, she hears Romeo yell her name, naked desperation in his voice. She is pushed forward just as she feels the sting of the blade in her side. Disoriented, she stumbles. Someone catches her, people call her name. She catches the flash of red of Tybalt’s jacket as his hands cover her wound, hears his repressed angry voice as he curses at... at Mercutio, holding her. The world is spinning. She realises, distantly, that she is losing blood. Mumbles something about getting it on Tybalt’s jacket. Romeo's pale, frightened face appears before her, and she smiles, trying to reach out to him, tell him it will he alright. As she touches his cheek, her world goes black.

She wakes up to what can only be described as quiet yelling. Subdued voices angrily whispering around her. Getting her bearings is difficult - even the whispers seem too much. Her side aches terribly, and trying to move results in a sharp stab just below her ribs. She groans, and the whispers fall silent. She opens her eyes. The first thing she notices is the cross on the wall of this darkened room that she does not recognise. The second is the three faces staring at her. She looks between them, struck by how young and lost Romeo and Mercutio look, staring at her with twin worried frowns. On her other side sits Tybalt, contrasting her boys as much in his demeanour as the colour of his shirt. His face looks aged, almost, set in a frown tinged with guilt. While anger still lingers in his gaze, his hand resting softly on her arm tells a different story. Slowly, she sits up a little, Tybalt instantly reaching out to support her. Mercutio opens his mouth, a flash of anger in his eyes, but she silences him with a look just as Romeo elbows him in the ribs.

"Now what have I told you boys about playing with knives," she says, hoping to dispel their dour expressions. Tybalt snorts, Mercutio grins, and Romeo bristles, no doubt wanting to tell her that he has not and would never. Gently, she lays her hand on Romeo's.

"Hush," she says, "I was only joking..."

He takes her hand and holds it tightly, pressing it to his heart.

“I thought we were gonna lose you Benvo,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry… I should have known better…”

A tear rolls down his cheek and all she wants is to hug him, and tell him it will be alright. She tries to sit up, but falls back into her pillows as the pain shoots through her again. Tybalt steadies her, and she realises his hands have not let go once. The one on her arm rests on her pulse, feeling, constantly, if her heart is beating. She is so very tired, all she wants to do is go back to sleep, but she dreads that if she does they’ll start to fight again. She tells Romeo it’s alright, it’s not his fault, and she feels Tybalt’s hand tense on her arm. But despite the pained angry expression on his face, he remains uncharacteristically silent.

The door opens, and she flinches from the bright light. Father Lawrence steps inside, arms full of what look like bandages. Surveying the scene in front of him, he smiles.

“Why, welcome back Miss Benvolio. You had us all very worried. Boys, out now. I need to change her bandages.”

One by one they shuffle out the door, heads down and subdued.

“And no more fighting!!” she calls after them, just to make sure, “Or I’ll… eh… I’ll yell at you later!”

The father snorts, but they all nod as they go. It’s reassuring to see, and she relaxes into her pillows a little bit more. Father Lawrence shuts the door and sits down next to her, a gentle, concerned expression on his face.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, gently pulling off the covers. “You gave us quite a scare. Do you remember what happened?”

“There… there was a fight,” she says, trying to remember details, now blurry in the sea of pain and confusion in her mind “I think I got between Mercutio and Tybalt. I remember being pushed?”

He nods, and carefully starts unwrapping the bandage around her torso. A wave of nausea hits her as she sees the red stains.

“That was Romeo, you’re quite lucky that he pushed you, one inch closer and… well, I don’t know what I could still have done.”

The wound looks almost innocent. Just a small cut in her side, but she can feel it is much more than that. Carefully, father Lawrence applies some kind of poultice and starts wrapping a clean bandage around her, gently holding her up by the shoulders. She leans forward to make it easier for him, and hisses as that puts pressure on the wound in a different way.

“So… so how did the fighting end?” She asks, confused. “And how did they all end up here?”

He lowers her back into her pillows carefully, and shrugs slightly “I’m not entirely sure about that myself, to be honest. The three of them showed up here about six hours ago, with a jumbled story of you getting in the middle of a fight, and accidentally catching Mercutio’s knife. Tybalt wouldn’t let go of you for a second, not until we got you inside and I started fixing you up…”

She nods slowly, imagining the three of them, walking her to the church. It would have been the closest place to go.

He looks at her speculatively for a moment, before saying, with a question in his tone “I didn’t realise you and Tybalt were friends…?”

She avoids his gaze, unsure how to answer. What is she supposed to say to this? Before she formulates a response, he speaks again, a gentility to his tone that makes her almost want to cry.

“Benvolio… I think it’s a good thing. Don’t worry alright? I’m _so proud_ of you.” 


	4. Impasse

The first weeks after getting her injury are the most frustrating few weeks she has ever experienced. She hasn’t been treated as a girl in years, but suddenly Mercutio and Romeo have taken to treating her as a porcelain doll. They balk when she wants to go outside, hover around her at all hours, and seem painfully aware of her female anatomy, ducking out of the room the second she so much as touches the hem of her shirt to change her bandages. Mercutio won’t look her in the eye, keeping his distance until one day she yanks him close, hugs him, and tells him roughly she isn’t angry. The silly sweet idiot breaks down and starts crying, and it takes her a good few hours to calm him down. Through broken sobs he keeps apologising, hands shaking as he seems to hold onto her for dear life. She just holds him for a while, and promises she’ll be very careful if she does decide to go out.

The Capulets are night to their day, treating her with a sudden respect to which she is unaccustomed. Boys that used to leer at her stay at a distance, the fighters look at her with admiration. Tybalt, while he keeps his distance, doesn’t start a single fight and whenever she accompanies any Montagues outside, the Capulets move out of the way. Some of the younger Capulet kids smile at her, Montague or not. One day, a small Capulet boy walks up to her, pulls on her sleeve, and softly mumbles a ‘thank you’. She thinks about that all day. Thinks about the courage that must have taken, and thinks that perhaps, perhaps there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

The next few weeks, as she recovers, are also the most peaceful weeks she has ever known. Mercutio hasn’t picked his knife back up since the fight, Tybalt walks outside without his. He glares, angrily, at Romeo, but doesn’t do anything. If this is the result of her getting stabbed, she thinks, it was absolutely worth it. She knows not to say that to the others though, lest they lock her in her room for her own safety or something silly like that.

It goes on like that for some time. A strange, fragile peace in the streets that only extends to the younger generation. The adults are still fighting. Because not one of them is willing to speak about the fight to the adults, somehow nobody ends up punished, especially since everyone is alive and well. She hears a lot of yelling, as her uncle tries to convince Romeo that his marriage to this Capulet girl is a sham, but there is nothing he can do, in the end. Not that that means the two lovebirds even get to see one another for half a second – Lord Capulet is keeping his daughter locked inside and seems to be discussing an annulment. From the tense atmosphere at church on Sundays, Father Lawrence has not given him one.

The equilibrium breaks about two months after her injury, when she wakes up in the middle of the night to a loud knock on her window. She stumbles out of bed and looks outside. Dumbstruck, she stares at Tybalt and Juliette, quite clearly underdressed for the weather, standing in their garden. Juliette wears a wispy nightgown with a robe, Tybalt’s red jacket wrapped around her shoulders. He is dressed in what she can only assume is a nightshirt plus his pants and boots, hair in a messy knot. She throws on her own robe over her nightclothes, knocks rapidly on Romeo’s door (forgetting for a moment Mercutio is staying there too), and runs outside before anyone else finds them.

As Juliette and Tybalt step into the light of the hallway, she gasps. There is a bruise forming on Juliette’s cheek, and Tybalt has an angry red gash running across his face, as well as clear hand-marks on his arms. His arm is wrapped securely around his cousin, who he doesn’t let go until Romeo stretches out his arms and she rushes into them, tucking her face under his chin.

As Romeo is trying to rub the warmth back into Juliette’s hands, a door opens, and her aunt and uncle appear in the hallway. Mercutio appears a moment later, a confused and somewhat aggressive expression on his face. Protective, she steps out in front, blocking their path to the two Capulets and Romeo. Immediately, all hell breaks loose. Guards filter into the hall, and Benvolio backs them all up into a corner, stubbornly staying between them and the other Montagues. As her uncle barks at her and Romeo to step aside, something unbelievable happens. Mercutio steps in besides her. A moment later, Romeo is there too, having stepped out of her shadow. He takes her hand, and tells his father that they won’t be stepping aside. Mercutio raises his chin, and grabs her other hand. Her uncle falters, unsure what to do with the three teens now between him and the Capulets, and her aunt steps in. Dismissing the guards, she walks up to Juliette.

“So this is my daughter-in-law,” she says, not altogether unkindly “but my dear, what happened to your face?”

The angry tension in the room deflates as Juliette begins to cry, and all Lady Montague can do is embrace the crying child. Almost helplessly, she looks between them.

Tybalt, standing close behind Benvolio, is the one that answers: “Uncle hit her for refusing to get an annulment. So I hit him. And we left.”

For a moment, there is silence. Then lady Montague beckons him closer and looks him in the face, pursing her lips at his injuries.

“Well then, it’s high time that you came to live with your husband, isn’t it, my dear?” She asks Juliette, who smiles through her tears and nods, mutely. “And as for you…” She looks at Tybalt again. “Well, clearly your cousin will need a guardian. Come, we will need to have someone look at that face.”

Quietly, they all trail after her, leaving a spluttering Lord Montague behind.


	5. Epilogue

Barely two weeks later, Romeo and Juliette are married again (or well, they are renewing their vows said in private). The event takes place in the middle of the day with a church full of attendees this time, supervised by the prince. While it looks like Lord Capulet and Lord Montague are less than happy about the situation, they are both in attendance, sulking in their respective seats in the first row.  Benvolio can see them both clearly from her spot on the dais behind Juliette, where she stands as maid of honour. The request had come from both Romeo and Juliette, surprising her completely. Romeo had snorted when she said as much, and drily pointed out that not only was she as close to a sister as he had, she had nearly died for them. Juliette had hugged her softly, and asked if maybe she would be her sister also. Honoured, she had happily said yes, to being maid of honour as well as a sister.

Opposite her stands Mercutio, one step behind a nervous Romeo, proudly in his place as best man. Tybalt stands next to her, one step below on the dais, close enough that Benvolio could reach back and touch him if she wanted. Gently, he pushes Juliette the last step forward so the ceremony can begin. After Lord Capulet flat out refused to give her away the day before the wedding, Tybalt had snorted and brusquely informed his uncle he had no intention of letting the man anywhere near Juliette, and that he would be giving her away himself. She has heard the story three times now, every time more fantastical than the last. The first time had been Tybalt, coming to inform her and Father Lawrence as they discussed the planning, that he would be giving his cousin away. It had been quick, no nonsense, and he hadn’t stayed to chat. Not much later, Romeo had burst in and excitedly regaled them with the same story, but adding in that Tybalt had told off Lord Capulet, imitating Tybalt’s words in his own excitable young voice (and failing spectacularly to sound anything at all like Tybalt). Finally, Juliette had come in, brightly smiling as she grabbed Benvolio’s hand, called her ‘sister’, and rapidly told them the whole thing again, along with a full play-by-play of her father’s facial expressions throughout the entire exchange.

As Father Lawrence starts speaking, Benvolio allows her mind to wander, thinking about the future. So much has changed in such a short time. And for the better. The vows take forever, and she decides then and there that if she ever ends up marrying, she’ll have to make sure the ceremony is concise. Romeo and Juliette are staring into one another’s eyes, blind to the rest of the world. Young though they may be, the look in their eyes speaks of real, strong affection, and she thinks that they might just be able to close the rift between their two families. Besides her, she sees Tybalt smiling at his cousin. There is something so different about this smile from the way he used to smile before. Instead of crooked and laced with a bitter sadness, this smile is hopeful and affectionate. Her heart warms seeing it, and she catches herself staring. Quickly, she turns back to the couple in front of her, when she feels a touch to her hand. Glancing down, she sees Tybalt’s hand, open towards her. She looks up, and is greeted by that same soft, hopeful smile. She takes his hand just as Romeo kisses Juliette, and laces their fingers together. There  is no reason to let go.

 

~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin.
> 
> Comments, as always, are appreciated.


End file.
